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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT   OF   CAPT.   AND    MRS. 
PAUL  MCBRIDE  PERIGORD 


•^X)Rmjr 


Songs  of  Seven 


BUT    I   I.I.    l.OVE    HIM    )\I()KR,    MOKK    'IH.VN     K   KK    \V1 
LOVED   ISEFORE,   BE  THE  DAVS  D.ARK  OK   BKIGMT." 


Collection  of  "  Masteypieces ' 


JEAN    I  X  G  E  L  O  W 


Songs  of  Seven 

M'ith  nmiieroiis  oj-ii^inal 
illustrations  by 

KIRK  ESTE 


NEW  YORK 

Frederick;  A.  Stokes  Co.mi'anv 

PLMil.ISHRRS 


■>•)■>  >    3  } 


136578 


Copyright.,   1894,   hy 
Frederick  A,   Stokes   Co»r/>a> 


J 


Seven  Times  One.    Ex- 
ultation, 


'VE  SAID  MY  'seven  TIMEs'  0\EK  AND  OVER, 
SEVEN  TIMES  ONE  ARE  SEVEN." 


Sones  of  Seven 


^ 


Seven  Times  One.     Exulta- 
tion. 

There's    no   dew    left     on    the 
daisies  and  clover, 
There's  no  rain  left  in  heaven  : 
I've  said  my  "seven  times"  over 
and  over, 
Seven  times  one  are  seven. 

I  am  old,  so   old,  I  can    write    a 
letter  ; 
Mv  birthdav  lessons  are  done  ; 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN, 


The    lambs    play     always,    they 
know  no  better  ; 
They  are  only  one  times  one. 


"  O  MOON  '.    IN  THE  NIGHT  I   HAVE    SEEN  YOU 

SAILING  AND  SHINING  SO  ROUND 

AND    LOW." 


SONGS     OF     S  E  \-  E  N  . 

0  moon  !  in  the  night  I  have  seen 

you  sailing' 
And    shining    so     round     and 

low  ; 
You    were    bright  I    ah,     bright  I 

but  your  light  is  failing, — 
You    are    nothing    now   but  a 

bow. 

You  moon,  have  you  done  some- 
thing wrong  in  heaven 
That    God    has     hidden    your 
face  ? 

1  hope  if  you  have  you  will  soon 

be  forgiven. 
And     shine      again     in      your 
place. 


SONGS     OF     S  E  \'  E  N  . 


a'':--^-^-^^ 


O  VELVET  BEE,   \0\J   KE  A  ULSTV   FELLOW. 

O  velvet  bee,  you're  a  dusty  fel- 
low, 
You've    powdered     your    legs 
witli  o-old  ! 
O   brave    marsh    niarybuds,    rich 
aud  yellow, 
Give  me  your  money  to  hold  I 

O  columbine,    open   your   folded 
wrapper, 
Where    two    twin   turtle-doves 
dwell ! 


"O    BKA\E    M.AKMI.MAKV    laDS. 


S  O  N  (;  S      OF     SEVEN. 

O  cuckoopint,  toll  me  the  purple 
clapper 
That  hangs  in  your  clear  green 
bell! 


And  show  me  your  nest  with  the 
young  ones  in  it  ; 
I  will  not  steal  them  away  ; 
I  am  old  !  you  may  trust  \v,c.  lin- 
net, linnet — 
I  am  seven  times  one  to-dav. 


Seven  Times  Two.    Ro- 
mance. 


I  WISH  AND  I  WISH  THAT  THE  SPRING  WOULD 

GO  FASTKK,   NOR  LONG  SC^LMER 

BIDE  SO  LATE." 


Songs  of  Seven. 


Seven  Times  Two.   R(jmance. 

You  bells  in  the  steeple,  ring,  ring 
out  your  changes, 
How  many  soever  they  be. 
And  let  the  brown  meadow-lark's 
note  as  he  ranges 
Come  over,  come  over  to  me. 

Yet  birds'  clearest  carol  by  fall  or 
by  swelling 
No  magical  sense  conveys, 


SONGS     OK     S  E  V  K  N  . 

And    bells    have    forgotten    their 
old  art  of  telling 
The  fortune  of  future  days. 

"  Turn    again,  turn  again,''  once 
they  rang  cheerily, 
While  a  boy  listened  alone  ; 
Made  his  heart  yearn  agam,  mus- 
ing so  wearily 
All  by  himself  on  a  stone. 

Poor  bells  !  1   forgive  you  ;    your 
good  days  are  over. 
And  mine,  they  are  yet  to  be  ; 
No    listening,    no     longing    shall 
aught,  aught  discover 
You  leave  the  storv  to  me. 


csr 


MADE  HIS  HEART  YEARN  AGAIN,  MUSING  Sf) 
WEARILY  ALL  BY  HIMSELI-   ON  A  STONE.'' 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN. 

The   foxglove  shoots  out  of  the 

green  matted  heather 

Preparing  her  hoods  of  snow  ; 

She  was   idle,  and  slept   till   the 

sunshiny  weather  : 

O,  children  take  long  to  grow. 

I  wish  and  I  wish  that  the  spring 

would  go  faster, 

Nor  long  summer  bide  so  late  ; 

And    I    could    grow  on    like    the 

foxglove  and  aster, 

For  some  things  are  ill  to  wait. 

I    wait   for   the   day   when    dear 
hearts  shall  discover. 
While  dear  hands  are    laid  on 
my  head  ; 

33 


THE    FOXGLOVE    SHOOTS 
OUT  OF  THE  GREEN  MAT- 
TED HEATHER. 


SONGS     OF     S  E  V  K  N  . 

"  The  child  is  a  woman,  the  book 
may  close  over, 
For  all  the  lessons  are  said." 

I    wait    for  my  story — the    birds 
cannot  sing  it, 
Not  one,  as  he  sits  on  the  tree  ; 
The  bells  cannot  ring  it,  but  long 
years,  O  bring  it  I 
Such  as  I  wish  it  to  be. 


THE  BELLS  CANNOT  RING  IT. 


Seven  Times  Tliree. 
Love. 


I  LEANED  OUT  OF  WIN- 
DOW, I  SMELT  THE  WHITE 
CLOVER,  DARK,  DARK  WAS 
THE  GARDEN,  I  SAW  NOT 
THE  GATE. 


Sonors  of  Seven. 


Seven  Times  Three.    Love. 

I  leaned  out  of  window,  I  smelt 
the  white  clover, 
Dark,  dark  was  the  garden,  I 
saw  not  the  gate  ; 
"  Now,  if   there  be  footsteps,  he 
comes,  my  one  lover — 
Hush,    nightingale,    hush  I     O 
sweet  nightingale,  wait 
Till  I  listen  and  hear 
If  a  step  draweth  near, 
For  mv  love  he  is  late  I 


SONGS     OF     S  E  \-  E  X  . 

"  The  skies  in  the  darkness  stoop 
nearer  and  nearer, 
A  cluster  of   stars  hangs  Hke 
fruit  in  the  tree, 
The    fall    of    the     water    comes 
sweeter,  comes  clearer : 
To  what  art  thou  listening,  and 
what  dost  thou  see  ? 
Let  the  star-clusters  grow. 
Let  the  sweet  waters  flow. 
And  cross  quickly  to  me. 

"  You    night    moths    that    hover 
where  honey  brims  over 
From   sycamore   blossoms,    or 
settle  or  sleep ; 

You  glowworms,  shine  out,  and 
the  pathway  discover 


SONGS     OF     SE\EX. 

To  him    that    comes    darkling 

along  the  rough  steep. 

Ah,  my  sailor,  make  haste, 

For  the  time  runs  to  waste, 

And  my  love  lieth  deep — 

"  Too  deep  for  swift  telling  ;  and 
yet,  my  one  lover, 
I've  conned  thee  an  answer,  it 
waits  thee  to-night." 
By  the  sycamore   passed  he,  and 
through  the  white  clover. 
Then  all    the    sweet    speech    I 
had  fashioned  took  flight ; 
But  I'll  love  him  more,  more 
Than  e'er  wife  loved  before. 
Be  the  davs  dark  or  bright. 


BY  THE   SYCAMORE 

PASSED  HE,  AND  THROUGH 

THE  WHITE  CLOVER. 


(^ 


Seven  Times  Four 
Maternity. 


>J^J 


yC^"^ 


HEIGH  HO  :    DAISIES   AND  BUTTERCUPS. 


Songs  of  Seven 


Seven  Times  Four.     Mater- 
nity. 

Heigh   ho  I  daisies    and  butter- 
cups, 
Fair   yellow    daffodils,    stately 
and  tall  1 
When  the  wind  wakes  how  they 
rock  in  the  grasses, 
And  dance    with    the    cuckoo- 
buds  slender  and  small ! 
Here's     two     bonny     boys,    and 
here's  mother's  o\An  lasses 
Eager  to  gather  them  all. 


Heigh    ho  !  daisies    and    butter- 
cups ! 
^Mother    shaU   thread  them    a 
daisy  chain  ; 
Sing;  them  a  song  of   the  pretty 
hedge  sparrow, 
That    loved    her   brown    Httle 
ones,  loved  them  full  fain  : 
Sing,   "  Heart,     thou     art     wide 
though  the    house  be  but 
narrow  " — 
Sing  once,  and  sing  it  again. 

Heigh   ho !  daisies    and    butter- 
cups. 
Sweet  wagging   cowslips    they 
bend  and  thev  bow  , 


;  O  N  G  S     OK     SEVEN 


A    ship    sails    afar    over    warm 
ocean  waters, 
And    haply   one    musing-   doth 
stand  at  her  prow. 
O    bonny    brown     sons,    and    O 
sweet  little  daughters, 
Maybe  he  thinks  on  you  now  I 

Heigh    ho  !  daisies    and    butter- 
cups, 
Fair   yellow    daffodils,    stately 
and  tall  ! 

A  sunshiny  world  full  of  laughter 
and  leisure, 
And  fresh  hearts   unconscious 
of  sorrow  and  thrall  I 

Send    down    on    their     pleasure 

smiles  passing  its  measure, 

God  that  is  over  us  all  I 
67 


Seven  Times  Five, 
WidoAvliood. 


I    SHALL   NOT  DIE,  BUT 
LIVE  FORLORE. 


Songs  of  Seven. 


Seven  Times  Five.     Widow- 
hood. 


I  sleep  and  rest,  my  heart  makes 
moan 

Before  I  am  well  awake  ; 
"  Let  me  bleed  !     O  let  me  alone, 

Since  I  must  not  break  !  " 


S  O  N  C,  S     OF     S  E  \-  E  N 


For  children  wake, 
though  fath- 
ers sleep 
With  a  stone  at  \(\ 

foot     and 
head  : 

O    sleepless     God.      - 
forever  keep.       I 
Keep  both  living     -tholgh  katheks 
and  dead  ! 


SLEEl 


I  lift  mine  eyes,  and  what  to  see 
And  a  world  happy  and  fair  I 

I  have  not   wished    it    to    mourn 
with  me  — 
Comfort  is  not  there. 

O  what  anear  but  golden  brooms, 
But  a  waste  of  reedv  rills  ! 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN. 

0  what  afar  but  the  tine  glooms 
On  the  rare  blue  hills ! 

1  shall  not  die,  but  live  forlore — 

How  bitter  it  is  to  part  ! 

0  to    meet    thee,  my    love,  once 

more  ! 
O  my  heart,  my  heart ! 

No  more  to  hear,  no  more  to  see  ! 

O  that  an  echo  might  wake 
And  waft  one  note  of  thy  psalm 
to  me 

Ere  my  heart-strings  break  ! 

1  should  know  it  how  faint  soe'er, 

And  with  angel  voices  blent ; 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN. 

O  once  to  feel  thy  spirit  anear  ; 
I  could  be  content ! 

Or   once    between    the    gates    of 
gold, 

While  an  entering  angel  trod, 
But  once — thee  sitting  to  behold 

On  the  hills  of- God! 


Seven  Times  Six. 
Giving  in  Marriage. 


Songs  of  Seven. 


Seven  Times  Six.    Giving  in 
Marriage. 

To  bear,  to  nurse,  to  rear, 

To  watch,  and  then  to  lose  : 
To  see  my  bright  ones  disappear, 

Drawn  up  like  morning  dews — 
To  bear,  to  nurse,  to  rear, 

To  watch,  and  then  to  lose  : 
This  have  I  done  when  God  drew 
near 

Among  his  own  to  choose. 


SONGS     OF     S  E  \-  E  N  . 

To  hear,  to  heed,  to  wed. 

And  with  thy  lord  depart 
In  tears  that  he,  as  soon  as  shed. 

Will  let  no  longer  smart. — 
To  hear,  to  heed,  to  wed. 

This  while  thou  didst  I  smiled, 
For  now  it  was  not  God  who  said, 

"  Mother,  give  me  thy  child." 

O  fond,  O  fool,  and  blind  ! 

To  God  I  gave  with  tears  ; 
But  when  a  man  like  grace  would 
find. 

My  soul  put  by  her  fears — 
O  fond,  O  fool,  and  blind  I 

God  guards  in  happier  spheres  ; 


87 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN. 

That  man  will   guard  where    he 
did  bind 
Is  hope  for  unknown  years. 

To  hear,  to  heed,  to  wed. 

Fair  lot  that  maidens  choose. 
Thy    mother's    tenderest    words 
are  said, 

Thy  face  no  more  she  views  : 
Thy  mother's  lot,  my  dear, 

She  doth  in  naught  accuse  ; 
Her  lot  to  bear,  to  nurse,  to  rear. 

To  love— and  then  to  lose. 


89 


Seven  Times  Seven. 
Longing  for  Home. 


NAY,  BUT  THE  PORT 

WHERE  MY  SAILOR  WENT, 

AND  THE  LAND  WHERE  MY 

NESTLINGS  BE. 


g^ 


m 


Songs  of  Seven. 


Seven  Times  Sevex.      Loxg- 
iNG  FOR  Home. 

1. 

A  SONG  of  a  boat : — 
There  was  once  a  boat  on  a 

billow  : 
Lightly  she  rocked  to  her  port 

remote, 
And  the  foam  was  white    in    her 

wake  like  snow, 
And  her  frail  mast  bowed  when 

the  breeze  would  blow, 

97 


LIGHTLY    SHE    ROCKED    TO    HER    PORT 
REMOTE  " 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN'. 

And  bent  like  a  wand  of  wil- 
low, 

II. 

I   shaded    mine  eyes  one  day 
when  a  boat 
Went    curtseying     over    the 
billow, 
I  marked  her  course  till  a  danc- 
ing mote 
She   faded    out    on    the    moonlit 

foam, 
And  I  stayed  behind  in  the  dear 
loved  home  ; 
And  my  thoughts  all  day  were 
about  the  boat 
And   my    dreams   upon    the 
pillow. 


I    MARKED    HER    COURSE    TILL  A    DANCING 

MOTE  SHE  FADED  OUT  ON  THE  MOONLIT 

FOAM." 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN. 


III. 


I  pray  you  hear  my  song  of  a 
boat, 
For  it  is  but  short : — 
My  boat  you   shall  find    none 
fairer  afloat, 
In  river  or  port. 
Long  I  looked  out  for  the  lad 
she  bore, 
On  the  open  desolate  sea, 
And  I  think    he    sailed  to  the 

heavenly  shore, 
For     he    came     not    back    to 
me — 

Ah  me ! 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN. 


IV. 


A  song  of  a  nest : — 
There  was  once   a  nest  in  a 
hollow  : 


I   PKAV  VOr   HRAK   MV  SONG  OF  A  NEST, 
FUR  IT  IS  NOT  LONG." 


Down  in  the  mosses  and  knot- 
grass pressed, 
Soft   and  warm,   and    full  to   the 
brim — 


S  O  N  C;  S     OF     S  E  \    E  N  . 

\'etches  leaned  over  it  purple  and 
dim, 
With  buttercup  buds  to  follow. 

V. 

I  pray    you    hear   m\-  song  of   a 
nest, 
For  it  IS  not  long- : — 
You  shall   never  light,  in  a  sum- 
mer quest, 
The  bushes  among — 
Shall    never    light    on    a  prouder 
sitter, 
A  fairer  nestful,  nor  ever  know 
A  softer  sound  than  their  tender 
twitter. 
That  wind-like  did  come  and  eo. 


109 


SONGS     OF     SEVEN 


VI. 


I  had  a  nestful  once  of  my  own, 

Ah,  happy,  happy  I  ! 
Right  dearly  I   loved   them  :  but 
when  they  were  grown 


V'  ^  \- \. 


"O,  ONE  AFTER  ONE  THEV  FLEW  AWAY 
FAR  UP  TO  THE  HEAVENLY  BLUE." 


They  spread  out  their  wings  to 
fly— 
O,  one  after  one  they  flew  away 
Far  up  to  the  heavenly  blue. 


SONGS     OF     S  E  \-  E  .\ 


Now  all  its  hope  hath  failed  ? 
Nay,    but    the    port    where    my 
sailor  went, 
And  the  land  where  my  nest- 
ling's be  : 
There    is    the    home    where    n-;y 
thoughts  are  sent, 
The  only  home  for  me — 

Ah  me  I 


THE    END. 


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»^^j 


Tliaiiatopsis."     Bry- 
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Collection  of  •'  Mastt'7-J>ieces.'''' 


T  H  A  .\  A   I  O 


Nor  in  the  embrace  of  ocean, 
shall  exist 

Thy  image.  Earth,  that  nour- 
ished thee,  shall  claim 

Thy  growth,  to  be  resolved  to 
earth  aQain, 


THE  SLUGGISH   CLOD.   WHICH  THE  RUDE 
SWAIN  Tl  RNS  WITH   HIS  SHARE,  AND 
TREADS  UPON." 


f^. 


Specimen  Pages, 

Evangeline/'      Long- 
fellow. 

Coilec'ioH  of  "  Masterpieces^'' 


PATIENCK  !       IHE  PKIEST  WOULD  SAY." 


34  E  V  A  N  G  K  L  1  N  E  . 

Silenced,  but  not  convinced,  when  the 
story  was  ended,  the  blacksmith 

Stood  like  a  man  who  fain  would 
speak,  but  findeth  no  language  ; 

And  all  his  thoughts  congealed  into  lines 
on  his  face,  as  the  vapors 

Freeze  in  fantastic  shapes  on  the  win- 
dow-panes in  the  winter. 

Then   Evangeline  lighted    the    brazen 
lamp  on  the  table, 


«<* 


"  WKiilK  WITH   A  STKADV  HAND. 


^w^   ■■ 


HUNTING  FOR  FLRS  IX  THE  FORESTS." 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
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